


Sugary Sweet

by orphan_account



Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Basil dies, God I FUCKING HATE DORIAN, He could tell, M/M, i cried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Basil could feel Dorian Gray’s sugar rotting his teeth, something thick and overpowering, leaving the young artist helpless against its flood. Dorian would kill him one day, maybe not with a knife, but certainly somehow.





	Sugary Sweet

Basil could feel Dorian Gray’s sugar rotting his teeth, something thick and overpowering, leaving the young artist helpless against its flood. Dorian would kill him one day, maybe not with a knife, but certainly somehow. Perhaps a lingering glance at a straying man, or by allowing himself to drip like caramel onto someone else. All pale lean lines and angelic features, he would never have need to hold a knife or gun to murder. 

Yes, Basil knew all of this. Knew his fate was sealed from the moment he saw those crystal eyes across that ballroom, knew those rose petal lips would unravel him piece by piece, and knew that perfect teeth would inevitably devour him. Call it an artist’s hunch, but Basil had an eye for color schemes and knew that green and gold were impossible to mix. 

He clashed against Dorian in a way that strained the eye, dark hair and dark eyes and dark, heavy soul weighing down unmarred wings soaring for the sun. Basil understood that he was the wax that would rip Dorian apart, and accepted his lot with fate.

She was a finicky mistress, and while Basil never held an appreciation of the female form, he knew fate was perfection incarnate. For not even life itself could win against fate, let alone a shy artist with a socially unacceptable secret. Even as he painted, Henry and Dorian’s chattering a backdrop to his oils and pastels, he understood. He lived a life pleasurable while it lasted, and his dying wish would be laid across the picture of Dorian Gray. Basil gladly let himself be consumed by the waves, all gin cherry red and glinting steel as they were.


End file.
